


dancing is a dangerous game

by Billiebearworkshop3318



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Comfort/Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billiebearworkshop3318/pseuds/Billiebearworkshop3318
Summary: It has been over a month now, and I still cannot get over the series finale. My brain has been in a constant state of rewriting the story, so I've decided to do just that. The story starts at the end of 15x18 and then follows loosely from there with a completely different ending. I have kept some of the canon material because there were parts I really liked about 18 and 19, but 20 is basically going to be ignored. This is my first fanfiction, so please be gentle. My plan is for this to be a weekly update, but at some points I might get ambitious and do more.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - repaying old debts

Cas slams the door behind him, and wastes no time in slicing his right palm with his blade. Drawing his blood, which he uses to paint a protection sigil on the bunker door. It’s hard to see what he is writing with the room being dim and the door a dark green, but it doesn’t matter the design is muscle memory at this point. Once finished, he stares at his work. He knows it will only work for a couple of minutes at best. Not enough time to save them, not enough time to save Dean.  
“Did it work?”  
Dean’s voice is hopeful, desperate even, and breaks Cas’s heart. Before he met Dean, he never felt the cold siege that is laying waste to his soul. At least from what he can remember. Desperate in his own way to try to futilely protect Dean from the truth, he relays the only positive in their current situation.  
“It blocked her grip on you.”  
Blood continues to drip from his cut hand. He sees no point in healing it, however, he can’t let Dean know how helpless they are in this moment. After their twelve years together, he can learn that when his Winchester losses faith, the whole world seems to crumble. He’s not ready to lose the world, not after he has finally begun to find his place within it.  
“Dean, she said the wound was killing her, maybe we can wait her out?”  
From behind him, deeper into the room, he hears Dean breathe in sharply.  
“Yeah, and if we can’t?”  
Cas still cannot look at him, and keeps his eyes trained on his blood pooling on the floor. He knows if he meets his friend’s gaze, he will have to accept the truth. That he is going to die.  
“Then we fight?”  
He continues with unguided optimism. Dean’s emerald eyes are burning holes into Cas’s soul. Still, he can’t bring himself to look back.  
“We’ll lose.”  
Dean says it so matter-of-factly that it stuns Castiel. For the first time, he’s not going to find a way to save him. Angel’s can’t make deals with Demons. They have nothing to offer. Death is currently the one on a suicide mission to kill them, and his father-- Chuck. Thinking about how his dad is causing Dean and the world such suffering opens a wound he had always carried with him. A wound so deep that it can only be caused by an absent, abusive father. Dean continues,  
“I just lead us into another trap.”  
His voice is somehow even deeper than normal. It’s grave. It’s final.  
“All because I— I couldn’t hurt Chuck. Because I was angry, and because I just needed something to kill, and because that’s all I know how to do.”  
Dean’s spiraling self-loathing forces Cas to look back towards him. He looks even worse than he sounds. A normally ageless face is worn with deep lines. Why does he do this too himself? Why does he always take on all the responsibility? Why does he always blame himself for everything? When Cas had first met him, he considered it to be a side-effect of being human, of emotions. However, he soon realized that it is a rare thing for humans to take credit for their part in failure, let alone it all.  
“Dean.”  
Cas calls out his name, which usually breaks him from whatever has possession over him. Not this time, however. Dean ignores him, and grabs the back of his head in his hands.  
“It was Chuck all along.”  
Dean’s head starts to shaking slightly.  
“We never should’ve left Sam and Jack. We should be with them now. Everybody’s going to die Cas, everybody—I can’t stop it now. She’s going to get through that door.”  
As if on cue, a bang erupts from the behind the door. Billie is making her way through the warding.  
“I know.”  
Cas can’t keep Dean’s gaze, so he trains his eyes on the blood on the floor. He can’t help but image just how much more blood he will lose when Billie strikes him down. How much blood will Dean lose? Enough to mix with his?  
“And she’s going to kill you, and then she’s going to kill me.”  
Both of them are silent for a moment trying to shake away the vision of the other’s dead body. Dean is right again. There is no way Cas will let him die as long as he lives. He couldn’t take the pain of failing him, even if it lasts for only a moment. Failing him like he has failed everyone else he has ever cared for, he’s just won’t. It is a selfish thought, but Dean has always been the selfless one.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Dean is meek, and silently pleading for Cas to look at him once more. A silhouette of Jack seems to reflect across his blood. His son. Cas doesn’t want to, but he imagines the despair on Jack’s face when he finds out he is dead. God forbid he finds him. He has seen Jack’s grief once before in heaven—in heaven. The angel’s heart jumps in his chest. Their answer courses through every fiber of his being. Raising his eyebrows, he turns towards Dean once again.  
“Wait, there is—there’s one thing she is afraid of.”  
He is breathless as he continues.  
“There’s—there’s one thing strong enough to stop her.”  
Dean stares at him as if he had just sprouted another head. His eyebrows slightly crinkling towards each other. That quirk had been the first thing he noticed about Dean all those years ago back in the barn. Dean was baffled by the existence of angels of course, but he was more confused by the fact that heaven found him worthy of being saved. With a grounding breath Cas begins to explain,  
“When Jack was dying I— I made a deal to save him.”  
Immediately Dean shoulders straighten back, Cas recognizes it as how he reacting the first time he had killed Billie.  
“You what?”  
A light presence of betrayal laces his words. Cas knows he deserved it. They had agreed no more deals, no more secrets. The guilt still doesn’t change the fact that he would keep the secret all over again. It was his burden, not Dean. His choices had caused Dean enough trouble. Despite his conviction, behind Cas’s eyes starts to sting because he knows his next confession far outweighs this other revelation. A new, unfamiliar level of fear rises in him. His whole being feels akin to what he would image a balloon is like just before it pops.  
“The— the price was my life.”  
He has long accepted the deal that was made, but now looking at Dean, he realizes just how much he doesn’t want to go. Not after what he is about to admit. Another bang booms from behind. Which reminds him of what’s at stake. Cas carries on,  
“When I experienced a true moment of happiness, the Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever.”  
The word forever is almost butchered by the laugh of irony he about released. His happiness is about to drag him to hell to live out his miseries for eternity. A cruel sense of humor that nothingness possesses.  
“Why are you telling me this now?’  
He can see Dean trying to put the pieces together. His eyes are hesitant, questioning, hurt, but most of all scared. They both know that there is absolutely nothing he can do except just stand there and listen, which has never been one of his strong suits. He has this pathological need to constantly be fixing problems. Billie beats on the door again. Cas knows time is running out, he needs to finish.  
“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse—I wondered what my true happiness could even look like? I never found the answer.”  
It was during the nights that Jack needed to sleep was when his theories ran wild. Would it be peace for the Winchesters? Would it be seeing Jack grow up? Would it be him finally becoming human? To be honest with himself he believed that humanity was his happiness for a long time. Cas had always secretly held a torch for the humans, but that’s not something he could have told anyone. Despite that, he never wanted to be one. It wasn’t until Metatron threw him to earth that he saw the true vitality in the human spirit, the true depth of Dean’s beauty.  
It was in purgatory that Cas realized what he wanted. When he heard Dean’s prayer to him. When he heard Dean’s forgiveness. His love. It had given him the strength to fight off the remaining two Leviathan to make his escape, and gives him the strength now to finish,  
“Because the one thing I want—it’s something I know I can’t have.”  
When he saw Dean round the tree in purgatory Cas knew, and he knew no matter what their feelings that nothing could ever come of it. An ending that would be punctuated with tragedy, the Empty coming to take him away. Ever since then he had struggled with their relationship, being careful to not step over the thin line keeping him in his life. But now, with Death literally knocking on their door, he could finally crossover the divide.  
“But I think I know—I think I know now. Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. In just saying it.”  
Dean is standing in front of him stunned. His arms hugging his sides, not knowing what to do with them.  
“What are you talking about, man?”  
Another bang, but this time it is accompanied with splintering. Urgency now accompanying Cas’s raw vulnerability.  
“I know. I know how you see yourself Dean.”  
Cas takes a step towards him forgetting everything for just a moment, everything except Dean.  
“You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You’re destructive, and you’re angry, and you’re broken. You’re daddy’s blunt instrument.”  
The pain and self-loathing Cas had felt when he first grabbed Dean in hell was soul shaking. Not because of how overwhelming it was, but because it was the first time, he could remember someone making him truly feel an emotion.  
“And you think hate and anger, that’s—that’s what drives you. That’s who you are.”  
Dean doesn’t move a muscle, as if one move would cause the world to crash around him. Cas knows Dean’s self-image has been his only constant companion wreaking havoc on his life. He’ll be damned if he let’s the man, he cares about more than anything, continue to believe that way about himself. With two little words that’s what he does, he breaks down the prison encapsulating Dean’s heart.  
“It’s not.”  
With his face widening with emotion, it looks as though he had just gotten the wind knock from him. There’s no point in stopping now. Another bang reverberates the room, causing the walls to shake.  
“And everyone who know you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done it for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That’s who you are. You’re the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human I will ever know.”  
Millennia of repression and trauma releases from Cas. Tears start to stream down his face, as his voice catches slightly.  
“You know, ever since I dragged you from hell, knowing you has changed me Dean. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you.”  
He takes in a deep breath trying to keep it together long enough to say what he needs to say. Dean has joined Cas in silent tears, as he still firmly holds his arms to his side.  
“You changed me, Dean.”  
Cas is getting closer to his final form. His final act of free will.  
“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”  
Dean sounds shaky, like he can’t handle another person he loves dying. Cas rests easy in the thought that he will still have Sam and Jack. He will still have them.  
“Because it is.”  
Cas takes one final step towards him, and stares deeply into his eyes. He wants Dean to be the last thing he ever sees.  
“I love you.”  
Dean pulls his head back slightly, like he has finally figured out the ending.  
“Don’t do this, Cas.”  
It’s a plead, as if he can stop the tragedy that has already been set into motion. If Cas could stop it, he would. He would give anything to stay, but this is the only way to keep the love of his infinite life safe. He reaches out with one hand and cups the side of his savior’s face. Wiping a tear away, with a gentle swipe of his thumb. Dean doesn’t know what to do, and Cas can’t blame him. He knows Dean bleeds emotion, but has never learned to harness them.  
They stare at one another for a couple moments until the sound of bubbling lava and distant screams emerges from behind Dean causing him to pulls away to find its source. A growing sphere of blackness appears in the wall, causing Dean to square in shoulders. He is ready to fight a formless cosmic entity that predates god himself. Cas smiles so brightly, as if he is not about to die. His eyes still haven’t broken from Dean.  
With one last burst of energy from behind Cas, the sigil finally fails and the door bursts open. The looming figure of Death with her scythe at her side casts her presence into the room. She is ready to reap the soul of Dean Winchester, the man who refuses to die. When Dean whips his head back towards Cas, there is palpable fear in his eyes that connects with Cas. His eyes reflect the ocean right before a storm breaks the horizon.  
“Cas.”  
Dean is desperate and flustered, and Cas can tell he has much to say just doesn’t know how to say it. There is not time. He grabs Dean by the shoulder. This is it.  
“Goodbye, Dean.”  
“What!”  
With a strangely content smile, Cas tosses Dean into the neighboring wall. There is danger of either side of him, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Dean. Even as he watched Dean pull himself off the floor. As he feels that Empty’s tendrils fly pass him towards Death. Even as she lets out a scream marked with frustration and regret. As Dean starts to say something, but is frozen by another stream of the Empty. Cas doesn’t look away as he begins to feel the absolute coldness only nothingness could provide, or as it slowly creeps around his entire body, or when it finally envelops his face. He is still looking at Dean, if now he only exists in Cas’s memory. The last thing he thinks of is Dean before his head slams against a hard surface and darkness truly devours him.


	2. Despair

Dean hasn’t moved from his spot on the floor where Cas had thrown him to safety. Where he watched him die—to save him. Is that what just happened? Did the Empty finally takeaway Cas for good? Dean had never liked the idea of the Empty. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory those places he understood. Those are places he had been and lived to see his way out, but the Empty. That was a place his soul could never touch, and the thought of Cas having to spend the rest of eternity there alone kills him. He doesn’t know if he should wish that Cas was asleep, or if he was awake. Which one was worse?  
There was much of the past 30 minutes Dean had not acknowledged let alone processed. He feels as though life around him had stalled, and maybe it had. Who knows what the hell Chuck has done now? Cas’s voice calls out in his head causing his body to stiffen; it had never done that before.  
“Goodbye, Dean.”  
It’s supposed to be hello. A sob catches in the back of his throat. It wants if not begs to be released, but Dean barely has the energy to breath. What had he done? He should have stayed with Sam, went after Chuck, but no he had to—he needed to do something. Why did he drag Cas with him? Every time Cas had died it was ultimately because of him. He rebelled for him. He killed Michael for him. He took on the Leviathan to keep the world in balanced and allowed him to retire. He got stabbed by Lucifer to make sure him and Sam left the apocalypse world. And—and know he died to keep him from dying. The amount of pain that he had caused him made Dean physically ill. Like really, he might puke. He braces his head against the wall behind him.  
With the nausea accompanies anger, not at Cas, he was tired at being needlessly angry at Cas, but at everything else. Chuck, the Empty, the whole godforsaken world. He wants to tell Cas that he was wrong about him. That he was in fact driven by anger and hate. In this moment, when Cas had admitted that he loved him, he stews in unguided rage. He wants to tell Cas that he was wrong to save him. He wants to tell Cas that he deserves to live over him. He wants to tell Cas that he—that he.   
Pain erupts in the back of his head from him mindless banging it against the wall. However, the throbbing is unmatched by thr complete an total emptiness Dean feels when he realizes that he will never be able to tell Cas that he loves him too. Somehow the hollowness deepens further when Dean realizes that Cas thought his feelings were unreciprocated. That he doesn’t think Dean could love him.  
Inside his jacket pocket, his phone starts to buzz. For a moment, Dean doesn’t move. He debates on whether it is even worth looking at, but then Sam worms his way through his sorrow and automatically he believes that Chuck took him too. When he brings his phone out Sam’s name is clearly in the middle of the screen. A part of him knows that someone else could be using his phone, but he ignores that little voice in his head. He’ll take that as a win, and if Sam is gone what’s the point then really. Everyone else is gone. Dean has already let down someone he loves today, why not one more. Without another thought, he drops the phone onto the floor. A cracking sound erupts, but the phone still buzzes with Sam’s attempt to call.   
Dean drops his head into his hands, and he let’s his vision be enveloped in darkness. Is this what Cas sees? Does he even know the he can see? Does Cas remember who he is? Does he remember Dean? The thought of Cas being robbed of everything that made him him causing that patient sob to finally be released. He feels his whole body jump and seize, and doesn’t try to stop it. In fact, instead of wanting calm he wants to scream, and so he does. He screams, and he screams, and he screams, and he screams. Forty-one years of pain and anguish escapes from him into empty air. The stupid son-of-a-bitch traded his life for the him. For a long time, the only thing Dean has had to offer the world is death, and Cas had always fought for life. Cas was a father. Jack. A sob catches harder when he realizes just how much Cas left behind.  
Slamming his head back against the wall, he looks to the spot where Cas had given himself over. The last look he gave Dean before being consumed by the black ink was contentment. In fact, the bastard was smiling. It’s a rare thing to see Cas smile, and even rarer for it to be so genuine. The weight of the unconditional love that Cas had given him still makes it impossible for Dean to move. No one had every looked at him like that, not dad, not mom, not Lisa, not even Sam. It scared the fuck out of him. There were no expectations in Cas’s action. He was just content in finally giving himself completely over to Dean. No one had ever done that for Dean before. Cas was happy for the first time.   
The urge to punch, yell, run or all of the above consumes him, but he knows if he gets up in that moment he will quickly fall back down. Cas had left his heart with Dean, and he was scared to death to lose it. As if the moment Dean leaves so does Cas, who deserved so much more than he got. Dean curses himself. He couldn’t even give Cas the reciprocation he deserved. He couldn’t he tell him that he loved him too. Cas deserved love, not the absent father who hates him, not the siblings who abandoned and tortured him, not the friends who let him down, and not Dean—who couldn’t even say three words.   
At his feet his phone starts to vibrate again. Sam’s name under the answer or reject buttons judging him silently from below. Staring back in condemnation of how much of a failure he truly is. For all Sam knows, Dean could be dead, and in this moment, a part of him wishes that were true. That the Empty took him instead. Jack relied on Cas. He was still a kid, only three years old. Dean rubs his hands against his wet eyes, and steadies himself against the wall. He answers,  
“Hello?’  
Even he had to acknowledge how broken his voice sounded.  
“Dean! Jesus Christ you’re alive.”  
One day he is going to hit his limit on how shitty he can feel, but today is not the day. Somehow it just keeps getting worse.  
“Yeah, Sam. I’m alive. What about over there?”  
He’s desperate to change the focus off of him. Physically, he doesn’t know if he can verbalize what just happened yet. Silence stretches over the line.  
“Jack’s with me.”  
Jack’s alive, for Cas he cries out tears of relief. All he wanted was for them to live.  
“Meet us at the diner in town. We’ll—we’ll figure out what to do next.”  
Sam is unsure on the other line, like he’s going through the motions and hoping for the best. Dean doesn’t answer right away. He’s not ready to leave the room.  
“Dean? Is everything okay?”  
Not knowing how to answer, he decides just to go with the truth. It’s the easiest thing to do at the moment.  
“No Sammy, it’s not. I’ll meet you at the diner.”  
Faintly, he hears Sam respond before he hits the end button leaving him in silence. He wonders if all Cas hears in silence? Looking up to where he last stood, Dean almost experiences Cas’s confession like it is happening all over again. In that moment he promises that that sacrifice will not be vain. He will try to live up to the man Cas credited for changing him, for teaching him to care, teaching him to love. In Cas’s memory he will get up and put one foot in front of the other. Out loud he promises,  
“I will finish this Cas. I will stop Chuck, and then I’m coming for you. If it’s the last thing I ever do I will--.”  
The irony of it all causes his voice to catch as he remembers the night they met.  
“I will drag your feathery ass out with my bare hands if I have to.”


	3. Aftermath

The drive to the town was a blur to Dean. Only one thing stuck with him as he approaches Cas’s car parked on the side of the road, was just how empty the world was. How noisy humans were because when Dean first sat in the Impala, he could hear his heartbeat. It wasn’t until later that Dean realize that Chuck probably took out all the animals as well. As he approaches Cas’s god-awful dust yellow 1978 Lincoln continental Mark V, Sam and Jack round the corner looking just as surreal as Dean felt. His voice still gruff, but on the mend, Dean calls out to them,  
“Did you see anyone?”  
Sam shakes his head as he looks back behind like maybe he might catch a glimpse of someone he had missed.   
“No.”  
The converge in the middle of what would normally be a busy intersection, which is now surrounded by car’s with popped up hoods and ice cream melting on picnic tables.  
“That son-of-a-bitch really dusted the whole world.”  
Dean doesn’t know why he’s surprised. When has life ever given them a break? I guess the proper question is when has Chuck every given them a break? His memory flashes back to a day ago when Chuck had confronted them in the bunker before Jack went nuclear in the Empty.  
“You know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? They did what they were told?”  
He hadn’t had time to properly process what Chuck admitted. Never had he seen Chuck so piss off before as he spat out,  
“But not you. Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”  
There was disgust in Chuck’s voice. He truly despised Cas and everything he stood for because Cas was the only one that didn’t follow Chuck narrative. He broke free from the storytelling, and in consequent so did Sam and him. Now that he’s gone do, they really have a chance of finally bring an end to the big man himself. His face must reflect his concerns because Sam asks,  
“Are you okay?”  
Dean doesn’t answer right away, which gives Jack enough time to interject,  
“Where’s Cas?”  
Dean watches his little brother freeze as he quickly starts to realize what’s missing. He looks over to the kid, who is staring back at him with big teddy bear eyes filled with concern. It’s hard to look at him, but he owes it to Cas not to bow out of this one.  
“He’s gone, kid.”  
Jack’s eyes dance back and forth as he tries to make sense of the news. After a moment of time to process, he asks,  
“Did Chuck take him?’  
The back of Dean’s throat starts to tingle. It had just stopped too.  
“No, he—Death was after us. After me. He summoned the Empty to save me.”  
Jack looks down to the ground, and wraps his arms around himself tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam pull his head up and starts to blink away tears. They would be a sad sight if there was anyone to witness them. A few minutes of somber silence passes between the three of them. No one seeming to mind that the others aren’t talking. They are too busy trying to wrap their heads around reality. Dean’s body shivers slightly from a rush of cold air causing him to tighten his pull on his jacket.   
“Why don’t we go into the diner?”  
Sam shakes his head in agreement before turning to make his way towards the diner, but Jack doesn’t move. He is still staring through the road. Dean knows he has to do something, but comforting has always been a hard skill for him to master. So, instead of trying to figure it out on his own he thinks of what would Cas do? Walking towards him, he thinks of every moment Cas had made him feel less alone, and harnesses his energy. He grabs Jack by the shoulders,  
“I’m sorry Jack. I truly am.”  
Dean almost laughs as he tries to hold eye contact like Cas does, but quickly fails. Somethings are so uniquely Castiel that they are impossible to replicate. Giving Jack’s shoulder a final squeeze, he moves past the kid to meet up with Sam in the diner. Half-eaten plates and fallen platers of broken dishes litter the inside. The television is still on a news channel that no longer has a host, and a perpetual story on an animal rescue on the outside of town.  
“This is my fault.”  
Sam whispers as he picks up a tilted over milkshake.  
“If I just agreed to what Chuck asked of me, if I just went along with the plan this would have never happened. The whole world wouldn’t’ve had to pay the price.”  
Dean is playing with the cash register trying to get it opened. He can only handle his self-loathing, so he responds,  
“Sam, this is not on you.”  
He rolls his eyes.  
“Tell me how it’s not on me Dean. I was given the choice--.”  
Dean starts to laugh stunning Sam into silence because his it is so humorless that sends shivers down his spine.  
“Chuck always knew what you would choose. Ever since he got all his power back, he has been in control. Sammy, this is not on you.”  
“Dean.”  
He clenches on to the sides of the register.  
“Sam, I swear--.”  
Before he is able to go on his rant, Sam interrupts him.  
“No, Dean. Look.”  
He is standing in front of the window waving aimlessly behind him for Dean to come, which he does. Through the blinds he watches jack sulkily walk towards the entrance to the diner, and in his wake every plotted plant shrivels and dies right before their eyes.  
“What the hell is wrong with the kid?”  
Sam responds just a dumbfounded,  
“I don’t know, but if I had to guess something happened when he exploded down in the Empty.”  
Dean shifts uncomfortably,  
“Of course, why not.”  
The bell on the front door chimes as Jack steps through the entrance. His face even sadder than his hunched over walk.  
“I’m powerless. I can’t contact Cas.”  
Dean’s inside did a backflip off of a building. The mention of his name cause electricity to run through his body readying him to fight. He knows he is not the only left to mourn Cas, but it feels wrong to hear his name on someone else’s lips.   
“Are you sure?”  
There was a desperation in his voice the likes of which he hasn’t ever heard before. Immediately, he regrets his lapse when he sees Jack’s face fall even further.   
“The last time I woke him up from the Empty. A—a part of me felt him wake up. I didn’t feel that this time. I’m sorry.”  
His head falls. Sam sits down in a booth. The reality that only the three of them exist anymore setting in. Dean can feel himself start to spiral. Behind his eyes are prickling once more. He can’t let it happen. He has to keep moving. This can’t be the end.  
“Okay, okay let’s go back to the bunker. There has to be something. There is always something.”   
Sam tiredly looks up at him. The role reversal would be funny if the world hadn’t basically just ended. He was usually the one with the hope, with the gumption to move forward. However, Dean isn’t sure he has either right now too. He just can’t stop moving now that he’s started. Finally, Sam responds.  
“Sure.”  
He stands up, but he doesn’t tower over everyone like he normally does.   
“C’mon, Jack.”  
Jack shakes his head, not looking up.   
“Hold on.”  
Dean calls out. The other two turn back towards him as he rustles in hand in his pocket. He pulls out his car keys and tosses them to Sam.  
“Y’all take the Impala.”  
Confusion settles into his bones as he realizes what he just did. Sam squints, but tosses back the keys to Cas’s Lincoln. Thankfully, Sam puts his hand on Jack’s back and leads him out the diner leaving him alone once again. Dean doesn’t move. A part of him doesn’t want to even look at the putrid yellow car, and the other is loathing having to drive it home. Why did he give Sam the Impala? For the first time, Dean feels warmth covering his right hand. He looks down to see blood dripping to the floor. Slowly, he loosens his grip on Cas’s keys. The memory of Cas cutting open his hand to paint the sigil on the door.  
“You know me. Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”  
Tears start to fall again without warning. He looks back at the empty News studio on the TV, which is basically a blended blob of dampened colors. Dean doesn’t blink them away like he normally does, but instead follows Cas's lead and let’s them fall freely.  



End file.
